


5 Times Alexsandr Kallus Dreamed and 1 Time He Didn't Have To

by captainkallus



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 trope, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, kallus needs a hug and im gonna give him it, mentions of atrocities, someone make this ex imp eat lunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkallus/pseuds/captainkallus
Summary: Alexsandr Kallus is a dreamer.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus & Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 19
Kudos: 104





	5 Times Alexsandr Kallus Dreamed and 1 Time He Didn't Have To

**ONE**

Alexsandr Kallus is twelve years old, and a dreamer. Or rather, was a dreamer. The Empire takes care of dreamers, as he would find out. But for now, he’s shorter than the rest of his class, his hair is golden blond, and his eyes are bright. His mind is teeming with knowledge from school today, all about how the Jedi destroyed the Republic from the inside out and how the Empire was put in place to end their corrupt rule. He’s carrying a stack of books in dreadfully boring fonts and no pictures and he plans to read them all by the end of the week. He’s top of his class, and his teacher told him he had high hopes for him.

So, cheerfully, Alexsandr dreamed of his future. He dreamed of going to the prestigious Imperial Academy when he was old enough, dreamed of a high-soaring career and the glory that came with it. He dreamed of seeing the stars through the glistening glass of massive ships floating through deep, black space. He dreamed of the worlds he’d visit, the planets he’d discover, and the cultures he’d experience. He did not dream of bringing terror to the galaxy, or subjugating the people he once dreamed would respect him. He did not dream of the pain he’d witness, the sorrow he’d bring, the death that would follow in his wake. No, for now he dreamed of traveling the stars, making friends on faraway worlds, and the exciting duty of serving his Emperor. He is twelve years old and happily dreaming about what is to come.

**TWO**

It’s freezing cold in space, but ISB Agent 021 can almost feel the heat of Geonosis, far below the light cruiser he’s currently on. He’s preparing for his latest scheme to capture the band of rebels causing him so much trouble on Lothal, once and for all. His troops are doing the same. His thoughts drift to the Lasat he will no doubt encounter today as he polishes his modified bo-rifle, sliding a gentle cloth down the metal, the silvery grays of the weapon matching his dreary, dark uniform. _Such an interesting and tortured creature,_ he knew just from their previous encounters. _He must feel very alone, being the last of his species and all._

ISB Agent 021 then stops to wonder if he’s ever felt truly alone. He can’t, there’s no way he could feel alone. He’s in a room surrounded by hundreds of other rooms and there’s an officer or a trooper in every one. He hadn’t had alone time in years. The tone of his thoughts turned defensive, as if trying to convince himself of something. _The Lasat must feel alone. Doesn’t he?_ His thoughts then dwelled on the rest of the rebel crew. How close they all were. Friends. Family.

He had dreamed of making friends on other planets when he was young. So far, it hadn’t worked out so well. But he still had friends. There was Lieutenant Lyste, Admiral Konstantine, and his stormtrooper squadron. He knew the names of at least two of them. And Minister Tua was a friend. _Wasn’t she?_ Kallus leaned back from the weapon for a moment, wondering if she thought of him as a friend before she died. Before the Empire slaughtered her for trying to escape. Before he _aided_ the Empire in slaughtering her for trying to escape. Suddenly cold, he stood, needing to get away. And for just a moment, he dreamed of a life where he didn’t feel all this might've been a mistake.

**THREE**

Agent Kallus is weighed down by a choice, the hardest one he’s ever had to make. He’s sitting on the cold floor of his standard size closet, all the lights in his room flicked off to make it seem empty to passerbys. His identical ISB uniforms hanging above him graze his shoulders as he trembles, holding a data pad containing copies of files he absolutely should not have in his left hand. It’s locked but he has the codes to access all the secrets it holds memorized. Tears are welling in his eyes as he considers his options. He could unlock it, read for hours about all the things the Empire doesn’t want him to know, and probably end up throwing away his entire life, or he can put it away and keep blindly following the path he was seemingly born onto. He could make Zeb proud of him, or he could make him hate him even more. Bahryn changed both of them, Agent Kallus knew, but it was pushing him down a terrifying road, one he’d never traversed before and never intended to.

But what if Zeb was right? What if he _had_ aided in the destruction of not just the Lasat people, but also the Geonosians, and how many more? What if these rebels really _were_ fighting to escape the Empire’s tyranny, what then? What if all those creatures weren’t really prisoners who volunteered to be moved to labor camps, but slaves stolen from their home worlds like Zeb said? The Imperial Academy hadn’t taught him about murder, genocide, and slavery. He didn’t believe in that. He believed in order, and the Empire had convinced him that’s what they were doing. Bringing peace, justice, and security. Order. Safety. But what would he do if that were all a lie, and if all the dreams he had growing up were really just nightmares in disguise?

The tears were flowing freely now, streaming down his reddened cheeks into his precisely cut facial hair as he forced himself to stay quiet, back to the wall, knees to his chest. The data pad glowed in his hand, waiting for him to unlock it and the secrets held within. He thought of Zeb, picturing the shimmering green eyes of the Lasat and remembering how warm he was to the touch. _He wanted me to do this. He saved my life. I should at least try to do what he asked me to._ He took a deep breath, dreamed of better dreams than the ones he had as a child, and typed in the access codes.

**FOUR**

Fulcrum stared into the mirror and the man in it stared right back. His cheeks were sunken in, his eyes swollen and red from crying, and his lower lip trembling. His usually neat hair was thrown out of place, and the collar of his shirt was undone as he heaved for breath. Fulcrum thought the man in the mirror looked like hell. Granted, he had just run at least six klicks to his tower to transmit urgent news to the rebels about Thrawn’s next planned attack. His usual speeder was missing, so he was forced to make the journey on foot, which would've been fine had he not been on a time limit to get the message to rebel command. He made it back, looking like he just ran a marathon, and dunked his face into the cold running water of the sink. Dripping wet and seriously wondering how no one caught him sneaking back onto Thrawn’s Star Destroyer looking like he just wrestled a bear, he accepted it as a blessing and collapsed onto his rock hard bunk, curling his knees into his chest. He never expected being Fulcrum to be easy, but it was a hell of a lot harder than he originally thought. And despite him losing weight, sleep, and using every lunch break he got to go discover intel, he felt happier than he had in a long time. It was the little things, like how Zeb sounded excited to talk to him, even when his voice was disguised and Zeb didn’t know it was him. Maybe it was selfish of him to take Zeb’s excitement for new missions and intel as interest in him, but it was one of the only things keeping him holding on.

Fulcrum was learning to dream again, like he had as a child. But now, his dreams were full of warmth, sunshine, and soft purple fur instead of schooling, stars and cool weapons. The rebellion always told their own to have hope, that hope was what made them strong, hope would allow them to win the war, but Fulcrum disagreed. He believed it was dreams that would let them win, even if he didn’t survive to see the end of it. He knew dreams were the greater motivator, because his dreams had kept him going this long, and he had no hope of ever achieving what he dreamed. He wasn’t sure exactly when his dreams started to involve Zeb in a more romantic fashion, but until they were working in close quarters again, if that ever happened, he wouldn't have to worry about making a fool of himself. His hidden wrist comm pinged off. After glancing at the time, he realized he was the one who was late. Tapping into the voice modulator quickly, he accepted the call.

“Hey there.” The Lasat’s accent floated through the air, his smile beaming through his words. What a shame he had no idea who he was talking to. His tone would probably change for the worse.

“Garazeb,” Fulcrum allowed himself to smile back, knowing he was unrecognizable through the comm link. “I wanted to congratulate you on turning the recon droid into a bomb. Quite ingenious of you, I must say, and it was a sight to behold up here.”

“Couldn’t have done it without the help of my Fulcrum!” Zeb cheerily replied, leaving Fulcrum to wince at the endearment. He wished so badly he could come clean. It felt too.. close. But for the good of the rebellion, and Zeb’s refusal to stop calling him, Fulcrum allowed Zeb to continue. “Anyway, I think I’m turnin’ in early tonight. Got a new briefing tomorrow mornin’. Just wanted to check in though. Hope alls well over there.”

“It’s as well as it can be. Good luck, Garazeb. Talk to you soon.” Fulcrum allowed himself a smile before cutting off the encrypted transmission. Yes, tonight his dreams would be filled with glimmering emerald eyes and violet striped fur. And when he wakes alone, clutching his oversized definitely-not-regulation pillow, he’ll allow himself to pretend it’s Zeb, just for a moment.

**FIVE**

Newly promoted Captain Alexsandr Kallus is sitting across from fellow Captain Garazeb Orrelios in the mess hall on Yavin IV. He’s still not used to the whole “eating at least two meals every day” thing in the rebellion, but Zeb always drags him away from his work long enough to get at least one in. Captain Kallus never asked Captain Orrelios if he knew he was Fulcrum all along, and if that was why he did his regular calls. He didn’t seem surprised or even the least bit disappointed when he found out the truth. It confused Alexsandr; why would Zeb go out of his way to talk to him every single night? Just to check up and make sure he was okay? He wasn’t that important to him. He wasn’t that important to anyone. He was just Kallus, the most hated man on Yavin IV. By the amount of flack that Zeb caught just from hanging around him, he was surprised Zeb didn’t hate him too. The fact that his feelings for Zeb had only strengthened with the Lasat in such close capacity made him feel even worse taking up all his time on base.  
Speaking of Zeb, he was staring at him now from across the table, green eyes meeting gold. ‘Not much hungry?’ he was asking, but Alexsandr only saw his lips moving, still trapped in his thoughts. Zeb audibly sighed, grabbing both of their trays and tossing them into the nearby garbage can. The Lasat gently shook his friend’s shoulder, gaining his attention at last.

“Up for a spar?”

Alexsandr shrugged, then nodded, figuring a good spar would take his mind off how he felt about Zeb.

The pair had been sparring often ever since Alexsandr found his old bo rifle on the black market by pure accident. He had sold it to a smuggler to get safe passage back to the Empire after the fateful night on Bahryn, but a couple hundred credits was a small price to pay to get it back. With his bo rifle back at his side, Zeb was more than excited to train with someone who actually knew how to use one. Today felt different, though.

Zeb led him to a secluded place in the nearby woods, the midday sun shining through the trees, casting patterns on the grassy ground. Alexsandr extended his bo rifle after Zeb did so with his own, both falling easily into ready stances. Zeb checked in with Alex with his eyes to make sure he was ready before they began, starting with the basic forms together as if they were dancing. Usually when they sparred, it was in the middle of the hanger or somewhere on base, where a crowd of rebels eager to bet their wallets would circle around. But it was peaceful out in the woods, calmer, and the only sound was the rustle of their feet against the ground and the clashing of their weapons in the air. There was no need for them to speed up or get competitive. Captain Alexsandr Kallus fell into an easy rhythm, neither man actually attempting to unbalance the other. For a moment and then another it almost felt like he was living in one of his various dreams about a life with Zeb, the shadows of leaves dancing across his large, striped arms, his muscles flexing under the skin and fur every time their weapons connected. He dreamed about those arms around his waist when he woke up in the morning, and he dreamed about those fingers intertwined with his own. He dreamed about those lips against his, and it was now he realized he always had. He was completely and totally fucked, head over heels for the man he’s lucky to even call a friend, and he has been since that freezing night on Bahryn. The ice moon that Zeb somehow managed to turn into a warm memory.

He glanced up into Zeb’s eyes, ignoring their staffs for a split second. Without meaning to, Zeb knocks him over, his lack of focus making it easy. But the wind isn’t knocked out of him, because he doesn’t hit the forest floor.

**+ONE**

Sasha Kallus is secure in Zeb’s arms, their staffs clattering to the ground together. He barely has time to breathe before Zeb’s kissing him, soft and slow, just like he always imagined. When Zeb pulls away after a second, worried he misread the signs, Sasha leans up to meet him again, pressing their lips together earnestly. It’s a bit awkward at first due to the difference in anatomy, but they figure it out, and the second kiss is far more successful than the first one. Already bent over, Zeb lowers himself and Sasha to the ground. Zeb lays on his side, head propped up with his arm, gazing at Alex staring at the sky.

“Yer beautiful, Alex.” Sasha can’t tell if Zeb is talking to him or just out loud; his voice is so hushed and unlike him.

“Sasha, please. Call me Sasha if you're going to love me.” He whispered, still comprehending everything happening around him. It must all be a dream. He must’ve fallen and been knocked out when Zeb unbalanced him before. There’s no way Zeb is turning to him, smiling, and saying “Okay, Sasha,”. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve him, but he wants it so badly. He wants this dream to come true.  
They lie under the blue sky until it turns black and the stars shimmer past the treetops. Zeb’s holding him close to his body now, the smaller man fast asleep against his chest. Zeb is beyond okay with sleeping outside. Yavin IV is a beautiful planet, and there’s no other place he would've wanted to make his move on Sasha.

Sasha wakes early in the morning, before the birds have even started to sing, and realizes that Zeb is still there with him. He’s still holding him close, still breathing softly against his body, and he faces the fact that yesterday really did happen. Most importantly, though, he realizes he didn’t dream all through the night. He settles on the cheesy idea that it's because his most important dream is lying right next to him, decides he’ll worry about the reality of the situation tomorrow, and quietly falls back asleep to the beating of Zeb’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! this is my first time writing kalluzeb and also the first fic i've written in a couple years! i really hope you enjoyed <3  
> twitter: captainkallus


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